The Wolf Mile

by C. F. Barrington

‘Well, I’ve said it now, so we’ll just have to deal with it. Tyler Maitland. I work at the university library.’

  She stirred her coffee. ‘Did you receive some money into your account?’

  ‘I did. Riches do indeed await in the Pantheon.’

  ‘Is that a monthly sum?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘I could give up my job.’

  ‘That’s probably the point. Easier to own warriors who don’t have to be somewhere else at nine each morning.’ It was his turn to examine her. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘We’ve barely spoken since the Sine Missione and it wasn’t exactly an easy experience.’

  She looked down at her drink. ‘No it wasn’t. But we’ve sworn our lives to Atilius now. Cursed ourselves if we ever step out of line. I wonder if perhaps that was a very foolish thing to do.’

  ‘I still don’t know why I was selected by the Pantheon – why Radspakr and his Venarii party came hunting for me when they could have had their pick of the cream of Edinburgh. At the time I was a mess. I had a bad back, a lame arm, zero confidence and no plan.’ He shrugged. ‘But came for me, they did. So I’m running with it – even when they tell me I have to be their goddamn White Warrior and dress like a snowflake so every Titan can gut me. And why? Because I need to, Calder. Because I need to find something.’

  ‘What?’

  Tyler took a long breath and gulped his tea, peering at her over the rim of the cup. ‘Last year, my sister, Morgan, disappeared. Just vanished into thin air. I’d suspected she was a member of the Horde for some years, but then something must have happened. So I spent six months wracking my brains for a way to follow her into the Horde, but deep down I knew it was impossible.’

  ‘But then the Pantheon came for you, too?’

  ‘Yes. Incredible as it seems. The answer to my prayers. You never find the Pantheon – they find you. So I couldn’t believe it when Radspakr turned up and told me I’m in.’

  ‘I thought no one could join if they already had a family member somewhere among the Palatinates.’

  ‘That’s the rule, although I was oblivious to it at the time. I assumed Morgan must have got me recruited and I’d see her as soon as we started training. When she didn’t materialise, I focused on getting through the Armatura. Then I thought she would be there on the night of our Oath-Taking. But I was wrong. I asked Radspakr about her and he denied all knowledge and that’s when he informed me about the rule.’

  ‘So you must be mistaken. And, anyway, he would know her if she was part of the Horde.’

  ‘You’d think so. But then the night before last – after the Agonium – he changed his tune. Told me she’d been killed by Titans in the last Raiding Season.’

  ‘Oh… Tyler, I’m so sorry.’ She reached for his hand, but he pulled away frustrated.

  ‘But I think the bastard’s lying. Nothing stacks up. First, he says he doesn’t know her, even when he’s supposed to be the guy with all the Horde’s records. Then he wouldn’t tell me the name she was called in Valhalla so that I could ask others about her. And finally he says she was killed in last year’s Raiding Season. Correct me if I’m being stupid, but Raiding Seasons are six weeks long, that means they’re over by mid-February.’ He looked at Calder. ‘My sister disappeared in March. So the whole thing stinks.’

  Calder was silent. There were holes in Tyler’s logic, but she could see he needed to believe in his sister’s presence. ‘Thank you for sharing with me. For trusting me.’

  ‘I do trust you. Of course I do. You’re the one I trust the most.’

  She broke his gaze and peered out the window behind him, taking in the high outline of the Old Town on its spine of rock. ‘I’ve discovered an uncomfortable truth. It’s not the violence that scares me. The opposite, in fact. I’m scared because I like it.’ She inclined her head to indicate the room. ‘All this – everything – means nothing to me. It hasn’t for years. Not since… not since I lost someone special myself. Yet now this new world of the Pantheon has opened up and I feel the sort of anticipation for life which I thought had deserted me long ago. I’m excited, Tyler. I’m actually excited that it all starts for real in five nights. No more training. No more ceremonies.’

  ‘Only if I can find the answer to the bloody clue.’

  ‘But that excitement scares me, because I wonder what it makes me.’

  ‘It just makes you human. This world’s lost its way somewhere. It’s become ordinary. There’s no risk anymore, no adventure. Everyone’s pushed into their little bubble-wrapped slot and told to work till they keel over. You can die of stress – that’s allowed – but on no account must you ever receive so much as a bruise. Today’s weapons are mortgages, energy bills, council tax, health and safety rules. We’re smothered with legalities, then bled of every penny. So maybe people look back at older times because they were kind of heroic. There’s a kid in my block of flats and you should see his eyes whenever he talks about the Titans and the Horde. The way I see it – maybe we’re lucky. We’re Thegns of Valhalla and perhaps it’s okay to enjoy it.’

  She smiled sadly, displaying perfect teeth. ‘I’ve never heard you speak like that. I had you down as the quiet one.’

  He shrugged, suddenly self-conscious, and drained his tea. ‘Perhaps I should be going. Better not to push our luck.’

  She placed a light restraining hand on his. ‘I’m glad you decided to sit with me, Tyler Maitland.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I’m Lana.’

  ‘Hello, Lana.’

  ‘Good luck finding the solution to the clue.’

  He grimaced and stood. ‘I’m going to need it.’

  ‘And – Tyler – I value the trust you’ve placed in me by telling me about your sister. If there’s anything I can do, you know you just need to ask.’

  He sighed and nodded. ‘Enjoy the rest of your latte.’

  ‘I think I might have an answer,’ said Oliver excitedly when Tyler returned. The lad was enjoying the last days of his Christmas holiday and his mum had gone to work for the afternoon.

  This time Tyler was invited into his neighbours’ apartment and Oliver took him over to a corner desk in the living room where a laptop screen showed a satellite map of central Edinburgh. Notepapers lay scattered across the surface, covered with Oliver’s research and deductions. ‘I quickly gave up on looking for swimming pools and focused instead on swimming tests. As you’d expect, an online search brings up every type of swimming class available, as well as water quality tests. But then I found a reference which took my thinking in a completely different direction and it all came together!’

  The boy was loving his moment.

  ‘And?’ Tyler prompted.

  Oliver zoomed the satellite image in on an area north of the castle. ‘Princes Street Gardens, the site of the original Nor’ – or North – Loch. It was drained as part of the city’s expansion during the construction of the New Town. But in the sixteenth century, prosecutors used it as the site for witch-ducking, a practice they also termed “swimming tests”. Those accused of witchcraft were thrown into the Loch with their hands and feet bound. If they sank, they were deemed innocent; and if they floated, they were found guilty and hauled out to be hung as a witch in Grassmarket.’ Oliver looked at Tyler. ‘Either way, it was fatal.’

  Tyler felt a charge prickle up his spine. ‘Look to the north. Swimming tests are always fatal. And the second part of the riddle?’

  ‘At one of the lowest points in the Gardens, probably right at the centre of the original Loch, there is now a sandstone statue of a female looking down on two male kilted children. Here – you can see it on the satellite if I zoom in again. That little blob beside the benches. Don’t ask me why, but it’s called The Genius of Architecture.’

  Tyler’s gloom was forgotten. He worked through the whole clue again in his mind, but he already knew the boy was correct. ‘Thank you, Oliver. You’re my saviour.’

  XXVIII
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  Freyja led her scouts out at exactly one o’clock on the first night of the Raids. They went in four squads of four, disappearing into the darkness.

  Calder’s team slipped through the disused door below the steps behind the Divinity School which acted as the North West Gate and dropped towards Princes Street. Instead of taking the pavements, they hoisted each other over walls and trotted through private gardens. The night was cloudy, no moonlight to play on their armour and betray them. They moved onto the steep tree-lined northern slopes below the Castle Esplanade and one-by-one dropped into pre-arranged observation points.

  It was as Sveinn had planned. To rush was to flirt with failure. Buses and taxis broke the silence. The occasional late-night resident walked unwittingly through the Horde’s field of operations. There were rough sleepers in the shelters which were dotted around the Gardens and they could be seen by the flickering lights of their torches and cigarettes.

  Punnr marked time as he paced the West Hall. Another giant map of Edinburgh had been hung from one wall and the King consulted it with his Thane. A platoon of Hammer Shieldmen under Bjarke’s command lounged around the perimeter. They would be Punnr’s bodyguard, tasked with keeping him behind their shields. Already waiting down the tunnels were the four Wolf Company Kill Squads. Halvar had directed two to the further South and East Gates, charged with emerging only if the Titan White Warrior was spotted. The remaining two, led by Halvar, were at the North West Gate. Brante was among them. He had clasped Punnr’s hand before exiting the hall and gripped his shoulder.

  ‘We’ve come a long way since that drum race.’

  Punnr smiled weakly. ‘You were the clear winner every time, so who’d have thought I’d end up being the poor sod in the white armour.’

  ‘Like I said many moons ago, you were always the one who wanted it more than the rest of us.’

  ‘Perhaps you can say that at my funeral.’

  Brante play punched him. ‘We’ve got your back. You go get that Asset.’

  Word arrived from the southern scouts. Titans on the rooftops above Blackfriars and more over the High Street near St Giles’. But only small groups. Doubtless scouts themselves. As yet, there was no movement at ground level along the whole of the Mile, except for a few Vigiles patrolling in the shadows. The night was quiet. Sveinn studied the map and murmured with Radspakr. ‘Send the Wolves. But keep one squad high, somewhere around the Esplanade. I want to know of the first sign of Titan activity in that quadrant.’

  Brante’s heart was thudding as he followed his teammates up the steps and out of the tiny door behind the Divinity School. Storm troop archers were stationed above and he followed Halvar as they took the same route as the scouts, over walls and through back gardens until they hit the steep slope below the Esplanade. Despite the cold, he felt sweaty in his mail and helmet, but his excitement had been replaced by a calm concentration. The second squad wheeled off up the hill to cover any approach from the Mile. Brante’s team trotted after Halvar, down through the trees towards the Gardens. He passed Calder crouched by a tree trunk, forty paces from the next scout, but she didn’t acknowledge him.

  Castlehill and the Gardens were divided by the railway heading west out of Waverley. At the bottom of the slope there was a single wooden footbridge giving access to the Gardens and, as the Wolves descended to it, they saw six of Asmund’s archers already covering this potential hazard. Halvar led his team across and they split around the perimeter of the Gardens. Below them was the main central lawn and the statue which, if Punnr had been correct, should mark the location of the Asset. The rough sleepers opposite hadn’t spotted them from the confines of their shelters and the Wolves settled into dark places to wait.

  Another despatch reached Sveinn in his Hall. The Titan scouts had dropped briefly to ground level and disappeared up onto the roofs further up the Mile, but they were still too distant to see any movement in the Gardens. This was the only change the Valhalla scouts had seen.

  ‘It’s inordinately peaceful,’ Sveinn said to his Thane. ‘It worries me.’

  ‘It’s possible they haven’t managed to solve their riddle. In which case they will keep their White Warrior safely in their rooftop strongholds and rely on their scouts to spot where we go. That would explain the lack of activity.’

  Sveinn growled his acknowledgement, but seemed indecisive.

  ‘It’s gone two,’ Radspakr reminded him. ‘We have but until four.’

  The King walked over to Punnr. ‘It is time. Stay well within the Bodyguard and they will follow the route already laid by Asmund and the scouts. The Titans are sleeping in their beds. You will be fine. God speed.’ He spun around to Bjarke. ‘Prepare your men. They go!’

  Despite the surrounding bodies of the Shieldmen, so close their shields and arms knocked against him, Punnr felt horrifyingly exposed as soon as he emerged into the night. He thought half the city must be able to see his gleaming white armour and – heaving over the garden walls – he expected lights to come on in every house. How could he progress unseen dressed in this ridiculous gear? He was panting in his helmet and the men around him were breathing heavily too. They were the big men of the central shieldwall, built for smashing everything in their path, not for running through the night. Their mail clinked and their scabbards knocked against their legs, making him wince as the noise carried in the night. He couldn’t see where they were going, he just ran between their shoulders, trusting they would spit him out in the right place. At the rear a Vigilis came with them, a GoPro camera fixed to his shoulder.

  They arrived at the bridge and then they were in the Gardens. Calder watched the group proceed. Punnr stood out clearly and she strained her eyes for any foreign movement in the shrubs around the perimeter. A well-placed foe could take him out with an arrow from any number of positions. The run to the statue was exposed across wide lawns and the rough sleepers had spotted them. Some had phones and were starting to film the group, but it couldn’t be helped. Blurry online footage was the least of the Horde’s worries, even though the watching world knew this to be the start of the Raids and a good piece of filming might make the national news.

  The shieldman in front of Punnr pulled up and spun around. ‘We’re here. Get on with it.’

  Punnr found himself behind the statue that Oliver had shown him. You will find me beneath the gaze of the genius. The bodyguards ringed the statue and faced outwards, leaving enough room for Punnr to walk to the front and peer at the standing female. She was looking down towards one of the children and he followed the line of her gaze to the foot of the statue. Reaching to a bag tied on his belt, he pulled out a small UV torch and shone the light onto the sandstone. With relief he saw hidden words reveal themselves, invisible to the naked eye but illuminated by the UV beam. Supplies was written in capitals at the top, followed by a repetition of the clue that had brought them to this location. Underneath was a new clue, which Punnr spent precious moments memorising.

  He was aware of the Vigilis kneeling only yards away, filming for the Caelestia and Curiate. Behind him the catcalls of the rough sleepers were growing in confidence.

  ‘You have it?’ demanded his lead bodyguard and Punnr nodded. ‘Form up, we go!’

  They ran back across the lawns. No arrows arched out of the sky. No cries of attack broke the night. Punnr was elated. All his tension had evaporated. He was bringing the first Asset back to Sveinn. Supplies. In the nights before the Grand Battle, the army of Valhalla would have food and water in its Highland wilderness.

  They crossed the bridge once more and ascended through the trees. Behind them, the Wolves fell back and the archers peeled off from their stations. The first Raid was over. It had been easier than anyone had dared hope.

  XXIX

  ‘Hark! It is the day of rest and all is at peace. You will find me beside the carts.’

  The Council was once more gathered around the mahogany table and again the sounds of jubilation floated up to them from the vaults below. The Hor
de toasted the ease of their victory, although there was a fragility to their celebrations for, after all the preparation, not a blade had been drawn in anger and the alcohol couldn’t mask the anti-climax.

  Punnr’s elation hadn’t lasted. Sveinn had congratulated him and given a few upbeat words to his warriors, splashing water from a jug to symbolise the water they could now drink in the field before the Grand Battle, but in the privacy of the Council Chamber he had grown serious. Halvar nodded appreciatively to Punnr, but Freyja barely acknowledged him and Bjarke and Radspakr glowered. Despite the excitement that had coursed through his veins, Punnr realised that by the standards of the Horde, the night had been nothing really. Barely worth its senior officers commenting upon.

  ‘Any thoughts?’ Sveinn demanded.

  ‘The day of rest – Sunday. Everyone’s peaceful on a Sunday,’ Freyja responded. ‘Could mean anything.’

  Bjarke spat onto the floor behind him and Punnr saw a muscle twitch in Sveinn’s cheek in irritation.

  ‘I’m astounded the Titans did not come out to play,’ he said to everyone in general, but directed to his Thane.

  ‘If they were given a clue to a location that led them east or south within the one-mile radius, then it is possible we would not have seen them. Just as – events would seem to suggest – they failed to see us. It’s also possible, however, that they simply couldn’t solve their clue and had nowhere to take their White Warrior.’

  ‘I know the feeling,’ Sveinn said wearily as he considered the second riddle. ‘Work your magic again, Thegn Punnr. Find me the answer before the second Raid, or we too will be sitting around on our arses with nowhere to go.’

  ‘Let’s start by putting “carts” into the search engines,’ said Oliver, chewing on a cereal bar as he sat on the sofa in Tyler’s lounge, his iPad on his lap. This time he was dressed in school uniform. ‘If we need to we can also dip into the dark web with Pipl.’

  Despite his exhaustion, Tyler had been pleased to see Oliver when he returned, and had wasted no time in reciting the next clue to him. Sipping on a mug of tea, Tyler leaned over the back of the sofa and watched Oliver scroll through the lists of search returns for ‘carts’. The boy puffed out his cheeks. ‘Go-karts, golf carts. Horse carts for sale. Old postcards of trams and carts. Milk carts. Airport bag carts. Pretty much everything and nothing.’